


i will be yours so that you can be mine

by youngwoong



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: (Kind of) Non Idol AU, Cuddling, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Nudity, Porn with Feelings, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngwoong/pseuds/youngwoong
Summary: Sometimes, Hwanwoong wonders how much longer the seams containing his love will last, because even the simple sight of Youngjo’ssmile—the smallest or the widest—causes his entire being to light up.Surely, one day, the love will endlessly pour from him and drown the both of them.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 20
Kudos: 63





	1. cuddles (naked)

**Author's Note:**

> hello all... i am NEW here, and this is the first time i have written fics for idols, so please spare me!
> 
> lets just say when i got into oneus i fell in love with ravn and hwanwoong and now here i am, with a bunch of feelings under my belt....
> 
> anyways, this is going to be a long road, because life is a thing and writing sometimes is painful because i often times DONT have a brain, so please bear with me! i think i do have other things...? planned? but as i said, life is a thing!! 
> 
> prompts/challenge is this one right here! i'm hoping to do all of them justice ♥ 
> 
> also, as a side note, i'm going to be writing exclusively rawoong, so i will be willing to take requests a little at a time, maybe? 
> 
> anyhow, please enjoy!

Hwanwoong wakes to light filtering in through the curtains, to the gentle sound of the fan whirring in the corner of the room, and to the sight of Youngjo beside him. Hwanwoong stares for a moment, studying his sleeping form—an arm under the pillow, his other arm bunched close to his bare chest, palm splayed against the sheets, fingers twitching.

There is no hesitation as Hwanwoong reaches out, letting his hand trail along Youngjo’s bare side lazily, _greedily_. He runs his fingertips along the knobs of his ribs, the slight dip of his waist, and further down to rest his hand on his hip.

He smiles simply because he _can._ He smiles because the feel of Youngjo’s skin against his fingertips is always electrifying, thrilling, _amazing_. Hwanwoong might go as far as to say it was the best feeling in the world—better than petting a kitten, better than the feel of his favorite sweater in the winter. Each time, it effectively sends his heart into frenzy—it pounds against his sternum, threatening to break through bone and tear through veins and skin. Sometimes, Hwanwoong wonders how much longer the seams containing his love will last, because even the simple sight of Youngjo’s _smile_ —the smallest or the widest—causes his entire being to light up.

Surely, one day, the love will endlessly pour from him and drown the both of them.

Hwanwoong chuckles at that, making circles against Youngjo’s hip with his thumb. In front of him, Youngjo is warm and still sleeping so soundly. Hwanwoong hums, a barely there sound that comes from his throat, as he shuffles forward, getting as close as he dared as to not disturb Youngjo’s slumber. It’s warm, so warm, yet still not enough; he wants to huddle closer. Hwanwoong wants to be _against him,_ skin to skin, to get into Youngjo’s space because during the night, it must have been too hot to be pressed back to front like they had been when they’d finally drifted off to sleep. Hwanwoong inclines his head and closes his eyes, feeling content enough to take in Youngjo’s warmth, content enough to gently rub his forehead against the back of the other’s hand.

It’s far from enough, Hwanwoong thinks, _not enough at all_ —and so, with that thought in mind, it takes him by complete surprise when that same hand moves and Youngjo’s fingers begin to card through his hair.

Hwanwoong startles, eyes wide as his head jerks up only to be met with Youngjo’s smile—warm, soft, _sleepy._ He can feel the stampede begin, right against his sternum; it steals his breath away, plaguing him with a strange, satisfying dizziness that always comes right along with looking at Youngjo. This has happened several times, far more than he could count—way before becoming a couple, between the time in which he was head over heels as well as completely oblivious to Youngjo, too, being over the moon infatuated, and still it hits him even after a year, ten months, and nine days of dating.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hwanwoong says, quiet and weirdly embarrassed. He wonders what kind of expression he has on his face, and opts to tell himself that Youngjo is too sleepy eyed to _really_ see his face.

Youngjo shakes his head. “Nah. You didn’t, Woong.”

Hwanwoong narrows his eyes as Youngjo closes his own. “I’m sorry either way,” he murmurs.

Youngjo snorts and shakes his head as best he can. “Don’t be. I’ll tickle you,” Youngjo threatens, and when he feels Hwanwoong tense, he snorts and laughs. “Just kidding, babe. Just kidding,” he soothes quickly.

“God,” Hwanwoong groans, making a face at Youngjo simply because the guy’s eyes were still closed; though, Hwanwoong has his own suspicions that, somehow, Youngjo always _sees._ “Sometimes, you’re the devil.”

“Huh?” Youngjo cracks an eye open, and suddenly Hwanwoong thinks that those words weren’t the wisest to say. He watches as Youngjo’s lips curl upward into a smile—there is a playful edge to it, and he’s seen it dozens of times before. It sends a thrill down Hwanwoong’s spine each and every time, including _now._ He’d been a fool to think that exceptions were possible. “That isn’t what you said last night,” Youngjo reminds him, the edge in his smile practically gone, but the playfulness still there, full blown. Youngjo’s still got an eye closed as he gives Hwanwoong his sweetest smile. “Not that I can remember, at least.”

Hwanwoong narrows his eyes despite the flush he feels blooming across his cheeks. He sputters intangible, heated words that Youngjo barely hears as he laughs, as he is overcome with emotion, as he is overcome with an avalanche of love and affection and _god,_ Youngjo thinks, _how will I ever get used to this._

He reaches out as Hwanwoong turns around to get off the bed, trying his best to stifle down the lingering bubbles of laughter that itch at the back of his throat. Youngjo curls his fingers at Hwanwoong’s wrist before he could get away and pulls—gentle yet coaxing. There is an underlying message in his touch and in the way he carefully tugs at Hwanwoong’s forearm, one that is always there should the need ever arise.

_You can pull free, if you want._

Hwanwoong doesn’t, though, which only delights Youngjo further. He pulls Hwanwoong close, humming contently at the feel of his bare chest pressing against Hwanwoong’s bare back. He huddles close, hooking his knees to the back of the other’s. Youngjo closes his eyes, cloud nine as good as ever as he grazes his nose at the base of Hwanwoong’s neck. It’s warm, and sweet, and soft, and so like something he wants to experience until the universe itself falls apart.

Youngjo wonders, for a moment, how he had ever lived without this.

In front of him, Hwanwoong sighs, soft and content as he gradually relaxes against Youngjo. His hand finds Youngjo’s arm easily, fingertips skimming aimlessly against warm skin, and it is such a thrilling sensation that Youngjo can’t help but smile against the back of Hwanwoong’s neck. He buries his nose into Hwanwoong’s hair and pulls him closer, impossibly so.

It’s when Youngjo kisses the shell of Hwanwoong’s ear that the air around them seems to shift.

Hwanwoong’s sighs steadily fade into moans, low and breathy as they catch in his throat. He tilts his head back and to the side, a shiver running down his spine as Youngjo presses chaste, lingering kisses along his neck. Hwanwoong can feel the curve of Youngjo’s smile against his skin, and he feels as though it _should_ tick him off, at least a little bit, but he can’t muster up any other feeling but love and want and an overwhelming sense of fondness _._

_I’ve got it bad_ , Hwanwoong thinks, but cannot help but relish in the fact that he knows Youngjo has it _just_ as bad as he does.

“Didn’t get enough of me, huh,” Youngjo teases, uncurling his arm from Hwanwoong’s middle in favor of sliding his hand to Hwanwoong’s side and down to his thigh.

Hwanwoong snorts, biting his lip as he rolls his hips back against Youngjo. He can feel the hard line of Youngjo’s dick against his back, and there’s a private, almost _arrogant_ smile curving his lips when he feels Youngjo mimic the action. “I feel like…” Hwanwoong trails off momentarily, too caught up in the feel of Youngjo’s lips against his ear, “th—that, that I should be saying that to you.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Youngjo agrees, nipping at Hwanwoong’s neck gently. He laughs at the yelp he receives as he maneuvers their bodies, only temporarily regretting losing such close contact because in the next moment, he’s coaxed Hwanwoong onto his back and is now hovering over him. Youngjo smiles down at this beautiful, ridiculous, incredible guy below him and says, “I’ve never been able to get enough of you, ever.”

Youngjo’s smile only seems to grow wider as he witnesses Hwanwoong scowl—but it means very little, almost next to _nothing,_ simply because of the fact that his face is lit up in an endearing shade of pink.

“You’re cruel,” Hwanwoong tells him, losing his inner battle to _not_ smile up at his boyfriend. He feels delirious—his face is hot, and his heart is racing, and his skin feels like it is on fire, but Hwanwoong knows it is something he would never pass up.

“Oh,” he sighs, sliding his hand up Hwanwoong’s inner thigh, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Hwanwoong hums as he slides his hands against the curve where Youngjo’s neck meets shoulder. He coaxes him down gently, craning his neck up so their lips brush against each other’s, and when he feels that Youngjo’s lips, too, are curved into a smile, he feels the seams of his heart loosen just a bit more.


	2. kisses (naked)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!  
> i've noticed i'm always writing them just laying around... naked... kissing and being cute... but in my defense, it's what we all deserve and the whole point of this 30 day challenge. that isn't really 30 days in my case, but i /will/ try to update once or twice a month if i can! having responsibilities really sucks 😭
> 
> anyways, thank you so much for the lovely words thus far!
> 
> please enjoy! ♥

“What are you doing?” Youngjo murmurs against a palm.

“Huh? Nothing.”

Youngjo scowls, but it lacks heat simply because it’s _Hwanwoong._ He bats away the hands that try to shield his eyes before planting a kiss, soft yet firm, right above Hwanwoong’s navel. “That wasn’t nothing,” he points out, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he feels the guy beneath him tense at the kiss.

(Hwanwoong’s always been a bit ticklish, something that Youngjo chooses to innocently forget.)

Above him, Hwanwoong sighs, but it sounds more like a whine than anything. “It’s just… _God_.” He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s _something,_ ” Youngjo insists, grazing his nose against Hwanwoong’s stomach before pulling back enough to look up. Hwanwoong is looking away, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed and _god,_ Youngjo thinks, butterflies erupting in his stomach, _he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen._ If he focused enough, he could see the faintest traces of pink high on the other’s cheekbones. Youngjo tilts his head, making circles against Hwanwoong’s ribcage with his fingertips. His lips may or may not be curving upward, now, completely devious. “Are you embarrassed?”

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes dramatically, moving his head along with the motion of his eyes. He smiles though, because how could he not? “Almost everything you do embarrasses me,” Hwanwoong tells him as he looks down and _yeah_ , Hwanwoong thinks, lightening in his veins, _that was a bad idea._ He wonders when he would ever get used to this—Youngjo against him, Youngjo’s hands on him, Youngjo’s lips brushing against his skin. He shifts a bit, a huff of laughter rushing past his lips as Youngjo’s fingers spread along his ribs as if to keep him in place. “Would y—you _stop,_ that tickles.”

“I didn’t mean to tickle you.”

“You’re a rotten liar—“

“But, enough about _that,_ ” Youngjo murmurs as he slides his hands down to Hwanwoong’s hips. He inclines his head and above him, Hwanwoong tenses at the sensation of hair tickling his stomach; it only makes Youngjo’s heart grow several sizes too big, only makes his lips curve into a private, soft smile. Youngjo kisses at Hwanwoong’s stomach again—slow and firm, a calculated press every time—before he speaks again. “What do you mean, everything I do embarrasses you?”

“I said ‘almost,’” Hwanwoong points out, nearly breathless.

“What do you mean _almost,_ ” Youngjo emphasizes the word, pressing another kiss to Hwanwoong’s hip, “everything I do embarrasses you?”

“I mean what I said.” Hwanwoong shifts again, heart racing all the while he thinks about how Youngjo would certainly be the death of him. He reaches out, carding his fingers through the other’s hair and he thinks his heart will burst, he knows his skin is on fire, and it doesn’t help that Youngjo’s own flame is mingling with his own. Hwanwoong thinks, and he thinks, and he _thinks_ about how much embarrassment the guy between his legs has caused him, about how much emotion he feels lingering in every nook and cranny of his mind, his heart, between his joints and in the marrow of his bones. He l—

“Earth to Woong,” Youngjo murmurs, and Hwanwoong looks down only to think, once more, that it was a bad idea.

“Just like now,” Hwanwoong blurts out, his laughter shaky. His stomach twists in knots. “You’re embarrassing. Just looking at you is embarrassing.”

“Is it because I’m between your legs?” Youngjo asks curiously, his smile teetering toward devious again. He moves his hands, abandoning Hwanwoong’s hips in favor of splaying his hands against his thighs.

Hwanwoong bristles, furrowing his eyebrows. “ _Well_ —“

“I mean, I guess you’ve got a point; your dick _is_ kinda in my face.”

“It’s because—“ he starts, only to process Youngjo’s words; mortified, Hwanwoong says, “wait, shut up, _no one_ told you to _—_ “

Youngjo laughs, and it’s song. He doesn’t throw his head back like he usually does, the column of his neck exposed and long and _tempting,_ but it’s alright. Hwanwoong loves every laugh, every smile, and every bit of embarrassment. He watches as Youngjo chuckles, as he snorts a few times; Hwanwoong doesn’t even say _anything_ when Youngjo presses his face against his inner thigh. His laughter dies down surprisingly quick, and when Youngjo raises his head to look up at Hwanwoong, he’s got the smallest smile on his face—soft, tender, the one that is only meant for _Hwanwoong._

“See?” Hwanwoong murmurs, utterly defeated. He sighs, covering his eyes with a forearm, but even through the embarrassment, he smiles. After all, it wasn’t even that bad—maybe, on occasion, he was more dramatic about it than usual, just to see what Youngjo would do. Hwanwoong moves a bent leg, bumping the side of Youngjo’s face with his thigh gently, laughing when he feels a kiss pressed there in retaliation. “That’s what I mean.”

“That’s what you mean?” Youngjo echoes.

“It’s because I love you,” Hwanwoong says quietly, the words lingering in the stillness around them.

Youngjo hums, and even that is a song, soft just like his smile. Hwanwoong’s words fade continuously in his mind, _it’s because I love you, love you, I love you,_ and Youngjo understands why it becomes a bit harder to breathe. He _knows,_ and that in itself is the reason why he’s sure the sun rises and sets and why the tide could be calming and beautifully terrifying the next _._ Youngjo clears his throat to stamp down the emotion stuck there. “I’m… pretty sure I get what you mean.”

“Yeah?” Hwanwoong murmurs nervously. He moves his forearm and glances down, breath catching in his throat because Youngjo just has that sort of affect on him.

“Yeah,” Youngjo says, nodding. He rubs circles against Hwanwoong’s hips, right where the bones jut out a bit. Leaning forward, Youngjo presses a kiss to the left one, then the right one. (He should be rewarded, really, because he doesn’t even _graze_ his lips against the dick that’s _right in front of him._ ) Youngjo hums, content, even as his back starts to ache with how he’s laying. When he glances up, he’s met with Hwanwoong’s wide eyes—and it isn’t the first time it’s made him feel _dumb._ It’s like when Hwanwoong’s looking at him, in any sort of way, Youngjo just kinda…

He wonders, if that feeling is what being ‘stupid in love’ is meant to convey.

Youngjo tilts his head, giving Hwanwoong a lazy smile before leaning forward, pressing a kiss against the crease where Hwanwoong’s thigh meets his groin.

Hwanwoong laughs, loud and sudden at the sensation, and that is enough to make Youngjo feel even _more_ like he’s on cloud nine.

“I definitely know what you mean, Hwanwoong,” Youngjo says softly, and Hwanwoong sighs, soft and content.

It’s quiet, only for a moment, until Hwanwoong speaks up.

“Come up here.”

“Huh? For what?”

Hwanwoong extends his arms, wiggling his fingers as if to say, again, _come here._ “Maybe I want to kiss you.”

“ _Maybe?”_ Youngjo scoffs, but he hauls himself up on his hands and knees, anyway. He crawls the short distance, lips twitching upward in a smile as Hwanwoong shifts beneath him. Youngjo’s settled again between Hwanwoong’s legs, waist to waist, and he cannot seem to focus on anything but the way Hwanwoong cards his fingers through his hair. “Maybe?” Youngjo teases.

Hwanwoong hums, and this time it’s him who has that devious tilt to his lips. He brushes through Youngjo’s hair with his fingers until he’s satisfied, and keeps a hand to the back of his head only to urge Youngjo forward. “Definitely,” he says, his laughter muffled by a kiss.


	3. first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again !! i am back <3 this one didn't really go exactly how i wanted, and i wanted it to be a bit longer, but i'm still fairly pleased with it!
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who has been leaving so much lovely feedback! it was through your words that i was able to crank this out within a couple hours. 😭💕 so sorry for any mistakes <3
> 
> please enjoy!
> 
> also.. ps.. if this doesn't seem like a first time ... please don't mention it okay LOL

Youngjo leans in, lips pressing against Hwanwoong’s, and his mind becomes pleasantly blank.

His hands are on Hwanwoong’s hips, beneath his shirt, fingertips making barely there circles against the soft skin there. Hwanwoong’s on top of him, thighs framing Youngjo’s hips, and it’s so warm to the point that it’s almost suffocating. It’s too much yet not enough all at once, and Youngjo wonders for a moment whether or not this was truly _reality._ There had been a time, years beforehand, where his palms all but burned for the feel of Hwanwoong’s skin— _surely_ , he muses, all to himself as Hwanwoong licks the roof of his mouth, _I’m not stuck in a dream?_

But every time the thought slipped past his defenses, Hwanwoong’s grip would tighten in his hair, or his hips would jerk forward as the kiss got deeper and deeper and _deeper,_ as Hwanwoong fingered himself open.

And each time, Youngjo sighed into the kiss, becoming a little more breathless each time.

If he hadn’t had so much on his mind, if he hadn’t had so much he needed to _feel,_ he’d definitely be drunk off their warmth; yet, it doesn’t stop the way he feels hopelessly drunk off the mere sight of Hwanwoong. Even as Youngjo breaks the kiss, and even as his hands burn with each soft graze of skin, he misses the _feel_ of Hwanwoong’s lips against his own.

It’s a late, silly realization, but it makes Youngjo stifle a laugh. After all, although his hands feel like they’re on fire, so does Hwanwoong’s skin.

It’s then that Hwanwoong moans—a soft, low sound that makes Youngjo forget about everything else but _now._

He knows he has this awestruck, dumbfounded look on his face. He _knows_ this for a fact, yet he cannot muster up enough care in the word to try to smooth it out or hide it. Youngjo watches with great care, eyes skimming over every detail, ears taking in every sound. Hwanwoong’s shaking on top of him a bit; the anticipation and nervousness shaking his very core, and his thighs twitch with how long he’s been straddling Youngjo, holding himself up.

His eyes linger on Hwanwoong’s arm, following it down until he cannot see it anymore, from where the guy is reaching behind himself. The wet sound of lube fills the air and Hwanwoong’s hips twitch every so often. Youngjo has to keep his eyes up, never straying past Hwanwoong’s clothed chest, because if he looked down any farther, at the tent he could just barely make out from how he is totally _not looking,_ he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

“Woong,” Youngjo murmurs, soft and sweet as he moves his hands so they rest on Hwanwoong’s thighs; they quiver beneath his palms, strained with effort. He splays his fingers outward and it causes Hwanwoong to stifle a groan, but Youngjo hears it—has to suppress his own, even, because he knows his hands are large compared to Hwanwoong’s everything. He glances up at the other, his lips quirked into a small smile—tender, void of teasing. “Are you done?”

“I…“ Hwanwoong sighs, the rest of his words momentarily lost as he thrusts his fingers deliberately. His eyebrow twitches as he tilts his head back, and Youngjo eyes the column of his neck, going back and forth between every little bruise he left there. “Just—a-almost, Youngjo.”

Youngjo hums as he tugs Hwanwoong closer, fingers digging into his hips. “Almost?”

Hwanwoong laughs, breathless and easy after the surprised gasp that left him. “It takes time, you know,” he says, and rolls his hips for emphasis.

“I _know,_ ” Youngjo huffs, but it’s without heat. Just barely, he can feel the hot line of Hwanwoong’s dick against the tent in his gym shorts. It’s hard to focus, hard not to slide his hands to where Hwanwoong’s fingers are, but he controls himself. Every time Hwanwoong moves, his dick rubs against Youngjo’s, and the precum at the tip smears against the white button down he wears. “I—“ Youngjo leans forward, trying to hide how much he’s currently being _ruined._ He presses his lips against a small bruise at the curve where Hwanwoong’s neck meets his shoulder before lapping his tongue against it. “I told you, I had no problem doing it for you.”

“You would have…” Hwanwoong trails off as he rolls his hips, fighting against the strain his wrist is undergoing. He curls his fingers, spreading them apart gently, and grinds down. “Y-Youngjo, you would ha—would have made me cum, just from t-this.”

Youngjo laughs and kisses Hwanwoong’s shoulder. “You’re right,” he agrees, leaning back when Hwanwoong pats at his chest. His ears strain for the distinctive wet sound, and as Hwanwoong pulls his fingers out of himself, it’s all Youngjo can do to _not_ replace Hwanwoong’s fingers with his own. “I… I would have done that. I would… do that.”

“Maybe another time,” Hwanwoong promises. He scoots forward, reaching down to palm the front of Youngjo’s shorts. Youngjo groans, the back of his head meeting the headboard with a soft _thud._ Hwanwoong feels almost bad, but remembers Youngjo hadn’t wanted to get off beforehand, and as he feels the wet stain on his shirt from where it’s too long, he figures it’s worth it. Hwanwoong leans forward and kisses at the sensitive skin just under Youngjo’s ear, smiling as the guy beneath him jerks and laughs. “Youngjo.”

“Hwanwoong.” Youngjo says his name as easily as water kisses the shore.

Hwanwoong looks away, this love-hate feeling toward the way his face heats up at the look on Youngjo’s face, at the loving tilt of his voice. (It’s more _love_ than _hate,_ but he would only allow himself that knowledge.) His heart pounds, loud and profound in his ears, but not because of what’s about to come—simply because… this is _Youngjo,_ and this is _him,_ this is _them._ Hwanwoong glances up, and he cannot help but keep his gaze locked with Youngjo’s; there’s something there, equally loud and equally profound, in the way Youngjo looks at him, in the way his fingertips are making slow, soothing circles against his hips.

Hwanwoong is sure it’s written all over his face, too, as well as his actions.

“…Hey,” Hwanwoong murmurs, leaning forward only to bury his face in the crook of Youngjo’s neck. He scoots as close as he can, and the both of them fail to hold back the breathy moans when their bodies line up, so perfectly, just like two torn pieces of paper. “Hey.”

“Hey?” Youngjo says.

Hwanwoong hums, unable to resist wiggling his hips, laughing when Youngjo goes rigid beneath him.

“ _Woong.”_

“Sorry, sorry. Not what I… wanted to do.” Hwanwoong leans back and angles his hips back, too. He slides his hands against Youngjo’s bare shoulders, flexing his fingers nervously. “You… you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Woong,” he says softly, his smile gentle.

“Yeah.” Hwanwoong nods, averting his gaze to the base of Youngjo’s throat. “Yeah, okay. You got a point.”

Youngjo tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

Hwanwoong rolls his eyes, sliding a hand downward only to catch the waistband of his shorts with his fingers. “ _I_ wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Youngjo.”

Youngjo laughs, shaking his head as he lifts his hips just enough so Hwanwoong is able to awkwardly slide his shorts and boxers down. It takes everything in him to suppress the sigh, the groan, the _moan,_ at the sensation of his dick finally being freed from its confinements; but it is torn out of him anyways, deep and guttural, as Hwanwoong wraps his hand around the base of it, twisting his wrist upward.

“W-Woong—“

“I know,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb against the wet tip. Hwanwoong smiles up at him, but it isn’t full of mischief—just fondness and something even softer. “Just… couldn’t help it.”

Youngjo hums at that, grabbing Hwanwoong by the hips only to coax him forward. He trails a hand up, fingers dipping along the ridges of his ribs as his other stays curved at Hwanwoong’s hip. “Couldn’t help it?” Youngjo asks, and Hwanwoong squints at him, wary but curious.

“What—“ Hwanwoong asks, but the feel of Youngjo’s fingers slipping inside of him cuts him off, leaving a moan to tumble out, instead. He leans forward as Youngjo curls his fingers upward, his dick twitching against his stomach. There was no stretch of discomfort, but the way Youngjo’s fingers filled him up better than his own fingers made it hard to concentrate. Hwanwoong realizes, here, that once Youngjo’s _inside him,_ he’ll be a lost cause. “Th-that—that’s—Y—“

As quickly as he had slipped his fingers inside, he slips them out just as fast.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against Hwanwoong’s hair. “Couldn’t help it.”

“Have I mentioned, before…” Hwanwoong leans back, flushed all the way down to his chest. He’s supposed to be _glaring,_ but he’s sure that he isn’t. Hwanwoong’s sure his eyes are soft, is sure that his lips are quirked into a smile, fond but exasperated. His body is still trying to process what just happened, judging by the empty feeling and the way his hole flutters around nothing. “That you’re the devil?”

“Maybe before, I’m not sure,” Youngjo says, following Hwanwoong’s lead easily as the guy presses a hand to his chest again. He leans back against the headboard, and allows himself to properly look, this time. He trails his eyes along Hwanwoong’s form—his shoulders, the way the button down shirt seems to engulf him, the wet patch of fabric at the front, the little glimpses of Hwanwoong’s dick he can see, sometimes, whenever the guy shifts just right. Youngjo watches as Hwanwoong slicks his dick up with lube, watches as Hwanwoong positions himself accordingly above Youngjo’s hips.

He closes his eyes as Hwanwoong’s hands thread into his hair. “Woong.”

“Youngjo,” he says, and hopes that it sounds just as easy as water kissing the shore.

Youngjo smiles, fond and loving, as he helps guide Hwanwoong’s hips down.

The world narrows down to one point of connection—the heat, the slickness of the lube, the tightness that is just right, if not just shy of too tight. Youngjo is barely aware of where his hands are, vaguely aware of Hwanwoong’s fingers gripping his hair while the other flexes and unflexes at his shoulder. A groans escapes his lips, breathy and strained, all from the feel, the sensations, just the scent of _them_ filling his nostrils.

“Youngjo—“

“H-Hwanwoong.”

“Not yet.”

“N-No, no, not yet.”

Hwanwoong nods, thighs shaking as he slowly slides downward, pausing every so often to adjust, to moan, to _not_ cum on the spot. He rolls his hips—the tiniest movement, and it has his whole body burning bright, the need for more coursing through his veins as easily as the love for Youngjo does.

He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them. Hwanwoong looks at Youngjo and thinks that the looks on their faces mirror each others, and he sighs, happy and content, as he fully seats himself on Youngjo’s dick. It’s then that Hwanwoong releases a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

“You alright?” comes Youngjo’s soft murmur.

“Yes.” Hwanwoong nods as he rolls his hips experimentally; biting back laughter as his dick twitches, as Youngjo’s fingers dig into his hips. “You alright?”

Hwanwoong doesn’t have to see the eye roll to know it’s there.

“Of course I’m alright.”

“Good,” Hwanwoong says, and lifts up only to slide back down quickly.

Youngjo groans, almost feeling sorry for the way the blunt of his nails are digging into Hwanwoong’s skin. He loosens his hold and smoothes the palms of his hands over them as he bends his knees a bit, canting his hips upward as Hwanwoong grinds down.

“I—I don’t know, if I’ll last too long, Woong.”

Hwanwoong lifts up, and guided by Youngjo’s hands, slams back down.

“Th-that’s alright, isn’t it?” Hwanwoong murmurs. He leans forward the tiniest bit, pressing their chests together; Hwanwoong rolls his hips, brushing his lips against the pulse of Youngjo’s neck. “First times… they’re s-supposed to be… _ahh…_ ” Youngjo thrusts upward, then, surging up to meet the roll of Hwanwoong’s hips. It’s distracting, that feeling of _too much_ and _not enough_ flooding his brain, but it’s all in the best way.

“Supposed t-to be?” Youngjo urges, slipping a hand behind the other, grasping the swell of Hwanwoong’s ass to help him move.

“Ah…” Hwanwoong sighs, reaching behind Youngjo to use the headboard as leverage. He lifts up, legs shaking, dick aching, and leaves the head of Youngjo’s dick in before he slides back down, the sound of skin slapping against skin raising the fine hairs all along his body. “Y-You know,” Hwanwoong urges, chasing beads of sweat along Youngjo’s neck with his tongue.

“I—that—god, Woong, _again._ ”

Hwanwoong rolls his hips again—slow and calculated, spine curving just enough so that his dick brushes against Youngjo’s lower stomach. He grabs Youngjo’s hand as he seats himself fully again, grinding down gently enough so that it’s a barely there sensation, and guides Youngjo’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles before guiding Youngjo’s hand to his cock.

“They’re _supposed_ to be embarrassingly quick, Youngjo.”


End file.
